In This Petty Pace
by Stormy1x2
Summary: Pre-Fast Forward. Bishop is changing the world. Not everyone is happy about this. Secretaries are evil. Coffee can deflect assassinations and buy truces. Agent Bishop/Torbin Zixx. Yes, I'm serious.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** In This Petty Pace

**Author: **Stormy1x2

**Word Count:** 2032

**Summary: **Set approximately 60 or so years after season 5 and before Fast Forward. Bishop is changing the world. Not everyone is happy about this. And apparently coffee can deflect assassinations.

* * *

**In This Petty Pace**

* * *

The first time Bishop discovered the criminal known as Torbin Zixx rooting through his private files, he did not think much of him. Actually, he did not know who he was. Rather, his focus was more on watching the robed figure slip out the window of his office building before calmly picking up the phone and ordering that the security guards be fired first thing in the morning.

Normally he would have had them permanently terminated as not only had they allowed someone to ransack his files, but they themselves were now to be considered security risks as a result of working in his department. However, while this was still back in the days before Bishop had become a universal leader working in conjunction with other interplanetary heads of state, he had been in the process of moving up the political ladder. Future world leaders did not leave a trail of bodies in their wake – and if they did, they had them suitably covered up or blamed on a convenient scapegoat.

As to why he did not apprehend the criminal himself, well, that was a bit more tricky. He had been about to move forward, when something had tickled the back of his mind. A memory. Something... hazy, indistinct, but definitely familiar. And it had something to do with the man who had apparently just jumped off the one hundred and tenth floor of his building.

The second time Bishop saw Zixx, it was his blurry photograph being shown on the FBI's most wanted list. Again, this was before the FBI had been replaced by a unified world peacekeeping corps. The man dressed like a reject from a Marvel comic book, but apparently he had some skill after all; he was wanted in twenty different countries at the time. The familiar feeling repeated itself, and Bishop suddenly _knew_.

The third time he saw Zixx, it was once again in his office, a newer, bigger one. Bishop was in the middle of convincing his bosses (the few that remained above him, that is – and not for long at that) that interplanetary alliances were, in fact, the only way to go, and the man was holding a bomb with a stereotypical red clock ticking away at a countdown.

Bishop stared at the cloaked figure who had so rudely teleported into his office, mildly irked by the mud the man's boots were currently grinding into his imported and obscenely expensive Persian rug. "Can I help you?"

"Not really," the man said with a grin and a shrug. The long dark cloak was pulled back from his face, and he raised one eyebrow, looking interested. "You seem rather calm for this sort of thing. Or do you routinely have purple men materialize into your office while carrying explosive devices?"

Bishop was above such petty reactions such as eye rolling, and so he merely turned to the expensive coffee maker his secretary had told him to keep on his own desk (admittedly, his reliance on caffeine could one day be an issue, but he would deal with that on his own terms) and pushed a button at random. He hated this machine. He was a brilliant scientist who could manipulate the human genetic code to do whatever he wanted, and he couldn't work his coffee machine without the instruction manual – which his secretary, in her haste to deposit the contraption and retreat to her weekend off, had neglected to provide. "I am not in the mood to deal with this. Therefore, I will be very generous and let you leave alive."

Zixx tilted his head – Bishop was not so lax as to not keep an eye on the intruder (and at least the coffee pot's reflective surface proved the machine was worth something at any rate) – and blinked slowly, several times. "You expect me to leave? Just like that?"

Bishop shot him a low-level glare. "In an effort to convince the world that the time is coming for alliances with other planets and dimensions, I have had to cut back on shooting people who enter my office. Apparently diplomatic relations go much smoother if one does more negotiating and inflicts less blunt trauma." He pressed another button. The machine gurgled at him and refused to drip any coffee into his cup. Bishop restrained a growl and made a mental note to fire his secretary on Monday.

Zixx barked out a laugh and suddenly reached down, tapping the buttons on the bomb held in the crook of his arm. The timer went flat-line and then turned off.

Bishop ignored him. The coffee maker did the same.

Zixx set the contraption down. "You're interesting," he said, folding his arms and grinning cheekily. "You know, I've threatened a lot of people. Hurt a lot of them too. Even killed a few. But this is the first time the reaction has been complete disinterest." He chuckled and swept himself forward, sitting down in the plush office chairs Bishop kept for the rare honored guests he allowed entry into his private sanctum.

"You are dripping mud all over my furniture."

"So send me a dry cleaning bill. If you can find me, that is." Zixx watched him poke the coffee machine again, and then leaned forward, batting his eyes. "May I assist you?"

Bishop was not unaware of the flirtatious nature of his guest – he simply did not care enough to dignify it with the sort of reaction Zixx was obviously looking for. "You were contracted to kill me and now you're going to serve me coffee?"

"Fifty years ago, you would have had guards in here shooting enough tranqs in my ass to down an elephant before dragging me to your lab for dissection," Zixx returned smoothly, eyes suddenly cold and hard. "I've read the files on you. Color me curious."

Bishop snorted, ignoring his statement, and waved his hand dismissively at the errant machine. "Have at it then."

Zixx snickered and pushed another button on the side. The top flipped open and the man pointed at it. "Helps if you put water inside." Bishop silently handed him a water bottle from his desk. A few minutes later, dark, rich-smelling coffee began to drip into the cup.

"You may go now," Bishop told him, and turned to the papers on his desk. There was a small rustle of movement, and he looked up, glaring at the man who had just returned to his previous position in the chair. "Is there anything else?"

"Why haven't you called for help? Attacked me? At the very least, why didn't you defend yourself?" Zixx was still watching him warily.

Bishop noted that his cup was full. He turned off the machine – at least the power button was clearly marked on the wretched thing – and added one sugar and one cream, stirring it three times and only that. "You are not worth the effort." He could suddenly _feel _the irritation suddenly wafting off the other man, and it was only due to his long years of exercising discipline and self-control that he did not snicker in his own amusement.

Zixx growled, low in his throat. "I have a bomb," he pointed out, unnecessarily.

"You defused it. Obviously, you did not intend to use it all. You wanted to intimidate me into doing something the likes of which I have absolutely no interest in."

"I find that hard to believe," Zixx retorted. "You're lying. You want to know why I'm here, and what I want from you."

"What you want from me? Unlikely." Bishop sipped his coffee. "Rather, it is what your employer wants of me. He will undoubtedly be upset by the idea that I will not be cowed into tearing up the peace treaty currently being discussed with Africa Zone 3."

Zixx stiffened. "How did you..."

"I know everything," Bishop said so flatly that for a minute, he knew Zixx was contemplating the idea that he actually was omniscient. "And I have a very important summit meeting I need to prepare for in three days. A galactic council is less than a decade away from being a reality – provided I get back to work." He looked at his watch – he had four hours before his team would be leaving for Switzerland and the next round of alliance discussions. "Was there anything else?"

"You realize you're costing me a very large paycheck," Zixx said softly. A click suddenly echoed in the room, and Bishop sighed, looking up at the extreme-looking weapon now being pointed at his face. "Any reason I shouldn't just cut my losses?"

"You are starting to annoy me," Bishop said, equally as softly. "I do not want to kill you but I will not be responsible for what will happen if you do not use that delightful teleportation machine of yours and Leave. My. Office."

Zixx didn't move, and for one long moment, Bishop was considering the fastest way to put the other man down, when suddenly Zixx slipped the gun back under his cloak. "Okay."

Bishop raised an eyebrow. "Okay?"

"You interest me," Zixx said, matter-of-factly. "Precious few things in this world do. And besides, there's something else about you..." He trailed off, a momentary look of confusion crossing his face.

"If you make another attempt to kill me in the future, do not expect this level of leniency," Bishop warned him.

"What if I make you another coffee?" Zixx countered swiftly, grinning crazily at him. He stepped back. "Later Bishie." He flickered out of existence, as neatly as if he'd never been there at all.

Bishop studied the space where the man had stood seconds before. It had taken him awhile, but he was now sure of who the other man was. Obviously, Zixx did not remember him. It was fortunate, really – had Zixx recalled that it was Bishop who was in fact responsible for his purple skin, that it was Bishop who had genetically altered him in the name of scientific curiosity – then there would likely have been significant structural damage to the building, lives would have been lost, and Bishop would have been in need of a new body.

He could have captured Zixx. Quite easily, in fact. But then the memory of the genetically altered creature he'd tormented and tortured reaching for him through the smoke and haze of his destroyed laboratory, picking him up and carrying him to safety reminded him of the debt he owed.

Zixx's celular structure had apparently calmed and settled to the point where if it were not for his skin tone, he could pass for a pure human. Not that it mattered much, what with the gradually increasing flow of alien settlers on earth, but it was interesting to see one of his former experiments apparently having adjusted quite nicely after escaping. He may be a politician, but at heart, he was still a scientist.

Zixx had turned out quite nicely, he mused thoughtfully. Bishop considered it a sign of good faith that he was finally doing the right and best thing for his country – nay, for the _world, _that Zixx had not recognized his former jailer.

Then he set the entire incident out of his mind in preparation for more important things.

He had a world to unite.

* * *

**End**

**

* * *

  
**

**Notes: **This is not really the end, actually. Rather, this is the start of what will hopefully be a realistic attempt (such as it can be, obviously) at a Bishop/Torbin Zixx fic. ^__^ Yes, I have thought about this long and hard, and as much as I detest certain aspects of Fast Forward, I adore Zixx. He reminds me of a cross between Deadpool (comic-verse) and Gambit from the X-Men.

My take on Bishop is a bit different - he's not the same as the turtles remember, obviously - but at the same time, he's not as mellow and 'good' as the future version. But he's getting there. :D

Feedback greatly appreciated. I have a feeling I'm gonna need encouragement to keep this going. ^^;;; I shall do my best.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** In This Petty Pace

**Author:** Stormy1x2

**Rating:** PG13

**Word Count:** 2669

**Notes: **Eventual Bishop/Zixx pairing. Right now though, they're both having fun irritating the snot out of each other. This fic takes place about a week after chapter 1.

* * *

**In This Petty Pace**

* * *

"I thought I threatened you with incarceration if you showed your face here again."

"Aw, c'mon Bish. Don't be grumpy – look, I made you coffee." Zixx grinned cheekily, holding out a mug that was most definitely not Bishops, as he was not in the habit of using novelty cups that proclaimed 'Secret Agents Do It Under Cover.' He was sitting in Bishop's chair, and the idea of having to send it out for cleaning again was irritating him greatly. "One sugar, one cream – just the way you like it."

Bishop idly contemplated alerting his security staff – whom were once again in danger of being fired, though really, it was not entirely their fault. In all the training his staff underwent to become a part of his team, not once had their manuals had a chapter devoted to 'Teleportation Devices and the Defenses Against Them'. He made a mental note to have that issue brought up at the next board meeting, and so decided to spare his staff the headache (this time), which was surely a sign that he was going soft. "Get out."

"So you don't want this?" Zixx waggled his eyebrows and set the mug on the desk, nudging it in Bishop's direction.

Bishop recalled the summit meeting in Switzerland the week prior, his argument about the sheer waste the inhabitants of earth were capable of, and was reminded that _that _had been a decidedly winning argument as to why they should embrace alien technology (as well as the alien culture it came from) in the modern world. It would be very bad form indeed then to contribute to the very problem he had condemned. "I detest novelty mugs," he said flatly, striding over and picking up the cup. He sniffed it carefully, testing the scent for any number of hallucinogenics or poisons Zixx could have put into it. His current body was rather adept at ferreting such things out. "In future, you will use my normal one." He sipped the brew carefully, letting it sit on his tongue to do a second check.

Zixx chuckled. "I guess that means you won't be calling security on me," he said cheerfully. "You must really like me."

"You are not worthy of any further attention, either from myself or my staff," Bishop said smoothly. There was nothing in the coffee, and so he took another drink. "There will never be a day where I cannot handle you myself. And if you choose to play the fool and fetch my coffee like a good little slave, who am I to dissuade you from your life's aspirations?"

There was a brief pause in which Bishop noted several expressions running across Zixx's face - he identified anger, annoyance, and confusion to begin with – before the other man nodded, holding up one finger. "Point, you."

"Indeed." Bishop strode around the desk and stared down at Zixx expectantly.

Zixx chuckled again and lazily stood up, looking like an unruffled feline moving because they chose to do so, rather than because they were forced. He slid away, moving with such easy grace that Bishop found himself casually wondering if it had anything to do with the animal DNA he had randomly instructed his assistants to infuse into his captives. Panther had been one of them, but aside from the random hollowing of some of A-352's bones as a result of the Kree cell infusions, there had been no outward sign of any major changes in most of them. Perhaps that was not the case after all. "Relax, I'm moving."

"I would rather you go, instead. I have work to do, and I am not in the mood to deal with your idiocy." Despite a rather insistent demand from Greenpeace thirty years ago to make paperless offices a legal requirement, file folders still had the alarming ability to generate themselves in large quantities on his desk. "Unless you would rather allow your capture so that we might have a closer look at that teleportation belt of yours."

"'Allow my capture'. Interesting choice of words." Zixx folded his arms, settling himself in the chair in front of Bishop's desk. "I thought you said you could catch me easily, at any time."

"And I meant that." Bishop flicked his eyes around the room, before returning them to the purple-hued experiment in his office. "However, there are many valuable objects in this room that I am loathe to sacrifice."

"So you already have information on my teleportation technology," Zixx guessed. "I'm guessing you've already established contact with a few of the alien refugees who have been living on earth."

Bishop didn't even bother to look up. Zixx was obviously desperate for something, be it straightforward attention (as he did seem to act like a willfull child with ADHD qualities) born from a hatred of being ignored, or he was fishing to see if there was information he had that was worth something. He wanted to barter. Bishop paused in his perusal of his files. That... could be interesting. Steepling his fingers, he focused back on Zixx. "What do you want?"

Zixx's eyes opened very wide. He splayed one hand against his chest, attempting to sound innocent as he exclaimed, "_Moi?_ You mean there's something I want other than the pleasure of your company?"

Bishop glared at him. "Keep in mind my patience is rapidly thinning."

"Oh fine. You know, you're no fun." Zixx uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees. "I want immunity."

"I had nothing to do with your parents apparent mistrust of vaccinations as a child."

Zixx blinked. Then he grinned, teeth gleaming as it spread ever wider across his face. "So you _do _have a sense of humor."

"That is privileged and classified information." Bishop eyed him with mild interest. "Immunity from what?"

A derisive snort sounded, and Zixx rolled his eyes. "Oh please, Bish – don't act all coy now. You know who I am, you know who is after me. I want immunity – I want to be untouchable to continue dealing with my work."

"Which would be?"

Zixx smirked. "That is privileged and classified information," he shot back. Then he shrugged. "But if you grant me immunity, I'd be happy to let you know _some_ of the details."

"Not interested." He returned his eyes to the folders again, reaching for his coffee. Then he started – it was empty. _Damn it_. His eyes set on the coffee maker, and then slowly swiveled to a very smug-looking Torbin Zixx.

Zixx whistled, eyes once again wide and innocent looking. "Something I can help you with?"

"....." Bishop resolutely pushed away the urge to massage his temples. He pulled out his own mug, set it in front of Zixx, and dropped the novelty one in the trashcan. "You have just bought yourself five minutes to plead your case."

Zixx grinned. "One cup'a joe, coming right up." His brow furrowed in confusion as he expertly pushed buttons, added water, and refilled the device with ground coffee beans. "What is it, exactly, that prevents you from learning how to do this yourself? For frack's sake, you're a scientist!"

Bishop shrugged. "I fired my secretary for gross incompetence. When she was asked to clear out her things and vacate the premises, she committed an act of vindictive retribution and confiscated the instruction manual."

".....okay then."

Zixx's lips were twitching, as though trying to valiantly restrain himself from laughing. It was a rather smart move, as Bishop would have had to deduct minutes from his allotted time as a penalty for laughing at the man who would one day be in charge of the world (which he had no doubts of, naturally. His plans were perfect). "You have four minutes and thirty seconds, by the way."

"Yeah, yeah." Zixx set the mug under the machine and then returned to his seat. "Look, the details of my personal work are insignificant, but I figure I have skills that you desperately need. I mean, I routinely infiltrate areas reputed to be under the heaviest security money can buy, and while you may have information about my teleporter and hologram tech, you can't replicate it exactly yet. This makes me a valuable commodity." Zixx leaned forward again, looking unusually serious. "I can find things for you. Information. People. Aliens among us. Whatever you need."

Bishop contemplated this for a moment. Certainly the man was skilled. Not only did he possess advanced technology that he could find ample use for, Zixx's very genetic makeup seemed to have developed him into a sort of super-human – obviously faster, definitely stronger than your average homo-sapien. His fluid movements could have been the result of diligent training, but could also be the result of the gene-tampering done to him years ago.

Information was valuable. Zixx could be utilized in a variety of ways – from typical spy assignments and missions, to providing blood samples for his geneticists to study. It was a tempting offer. "Explain your definition of 'immunity'."

"I want extradition to the United States – such as they are – if, by chance I'm ever caught. I want to be transferred directly to you, so I can of course, be released. I want protection, if I need it. Asylum. Sanctuary. Any of this ringing a bell?"

"Your problems with the rest of the world are not my concern," Bishop said coldly. "However, any threats to the one world unification process most certainly are. You are a murderer and a thief. Why should I waste my credibility in offering you protection? We have spies in place already for the information you claim you can give us."

Zixx frowned. "I am not a murderer."

Bishop raised an eyebrow. "You killed Haji Bin Barat while he was in the city formerly known as Kuala Lumpur."

"He committed hundreds of murders long before me."

"So that makes it okay?" Bishop smirked. "Really, at the very least, you could deny your involvement, futile as it would be."

"I'm not in the habit of making futile gestures," Zixx growled. "Barat was also a trafficker in children, both human and alien. Killing him and his associates brought his activities to light and resulted in the return of dozens of children to a multitude of relieved parents. I am not particularly regretful."

"Barat was also a billionaire financial backer of numerous politicians in Asia, with ties to criminal organizations all over the world," Bishop said abruptly. "There were many people upset over his demise."

Zixx watched him, carefully now, with narrowed eyes. His mind was obviously quick-thinking, and trying to read between his words. "Were you one of those people 'saddened' by his death?" he spat.

Bishop stared at him calmly, watching with even more interest at the growing turmoil starting to build within the man. But he did want to get to the point of this, and so he decided to stop toying. For the moment. "I was not."

Zixx looked doubtful, and then angry as he realized what Bishop was doing. "You really are an ass."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"On the contrary," Bishop said, taking his mug from the coffee maker. He made his usual additions and stirred. "The fact that you are angry at the thought of me being tied to such a person is proof that you would be disappointed. You want to work with me, you need my assistance, and you also seem like me as a person, for whatever reason. Ergo, your anger reveals that you actually think quite highly of me."

Zixx wore yet another stunned look – that almost immediately turned mulish and petulant. "I don't like you as a person."

"Whatever." Bishop sipped his coffee. "Either way, you have made an intriguing proposition to me. You were correct when you stated you had skills I could use." He set the mug down again and stared directly at Zixx. "Let us be frank here. You and I both know what the future holds. An age of advancement is on the horizon and I will be there to meet it, to guide it into the mold that best suits the needs of humans, and eventually, other residents of this world. You will not do anything to endanger that dream, or myself."

"Yes," Zixx said. His manner had become slightly withdrawn, wary now. Bishop approved. "My immunity?"

"Granted. You will provide me with a list of targets you have gone after, what you have attempted, and frankly, who you have pissed off. I will know everything." Bishop reached into a side drawer on his desk and pulled out a sealed package with a new syringe. "I also want a sample of your blood. For a variety of reasons, but one being that new technology will be added to this building in the coming months, including DNA locks, and signal scramblers that will block incoming transmissions – transmissions that could include your teleporter."

Zixx looked hesitant, but after a minute, he held out his arm. Bishop opened the package, withdrew the syringe, and unceremoniously stabbed it into his arm. Zixx didn't flinch, but continued to watch with narrowed eyes.

"You will cease taunting cameras with your juvenile need for attention," Bishop continued. "I do not need or want a known criminal to be associated with me, and so your immunity will only cover you so long as you do your utmost to become not unlike an actual shadow. Any parading around, grandstanding or boasting will result in immediate denial from me and my staff. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

Zixx nodded. "As long as you keep your word."

"You will have to trust me then, won't you?"

"I will," Zixx said slowly. "I do." He raised his own eyebrow, giving a cocky grin, confidence returning. "I told you, I've read about you. I've even seen some of your private files here in your own office. You act like an ass, but you have plans that will benefit the entire world. There are people who will want you dead. I don't. So now we're on the same team." He shrugged. "Always helps to have an in with the man in charge."

"I'm not in charge."

"Yet." Zixx stood up and slid his cloak back on. "But I think you will be. You obviously do."

Bishop glared at him, but there was very little heat involved. "Leave."

"I'm going," Zixx snickered. He dropped an odd-looking device on Bishop's desk. It was rectangular, somewhat resembling a cellphone, and had two buttons on it. "Direct line to me. Untraceable, untappable." He smirked. "Also obsolete, in my line of work, so feel free to have your minions take a peek at it. But don't blame me if they break it."

Bishop nodded curtly, sliding it into his desk drawer.

"I'll see ya later Bishie." Zixx stepped back, and winked. "I gotta tell ya, this feels like the start of a beautiful friendship." With that, he dematerialized, vanishing without a sound.

Bishop stared at the spot where Zixx had stood, and then sighed harshly, giving in to the temptation to rub his temples where a stress headache was beginning to build. Zixx was irritating. His mug was empty again. He required aspirin. That settled it – he needed a new secretary. At the very least, one requirement would be the ability to procure for him a manual for the coffee maker to prevent future exploitations of his person.

It would never do to let word get 'round that a known world criminal had purchased immunity from all future activities by gifting him with a cup of java.

* * *

**End**

**

* * *

  
**

**Notes: **

Haji Bin Barat is from the comic book Cable. He was killed by Deadpool in Cable #13. I needed a bad guy for Zixx to kill, and since Zixx is kinda sorta based on aspects of Wade's personality, I thought this would be a cool tie-in. Ya know, in case I ever decide to do a crossover wherein Wae's ody sliding takes him to the TMNT-verse and he meets his TMNT-verse counterpart (which would be Zixx. Hee!). And now I need to stop bfore I talk myself into another fic. ^____^

So the 2-shot is finished, but I intend to post additional Zixx/Bishop one-shots here. They will not be in any particular order, so if you have any requests, or scenarios you'd like to see explored, feel free to submit them in your review. ^^

C&C always accepted and appreciated. ^___^


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** I, For One, Welcome Our New Alien Overlords

**Author:** Stormy1x2

**Word Count:** 925

**Pairings:** Bishop/Zixx, preslash

**Notes: **a short one-shot that takes place after chapter 2 but in an unspecified time. After they've been working for a while, perhaps. Future stories here will fluctuate around the timeline I've set up in chapters 1 and 2, and may or may not necessarily be interconnected. Please see future notes for details.

Dedicated to amaronith and polaris2000! Thanks for the encouragement!

**Summary:** Zixx is careless. Japan is apparently trying to traumatize Bishop. World tolerance is discussed.

**

* * *

**

**I, For One, Welcome Our New Alien Overlords**

**

* * *

**

"Was that really necessary?"

Zixx shrugged, tossing the flash drive onto Bishop's desk. Bishop stared with distaste at the luridly colored, wide-eyed animated character it was shaped as and picked it up gingerly. "Look, I did my best to avoid security but Japan's got some of the best freaking security around. Unlike the US until recently, they have embraced technology from all walks of life, and so yeah, I got caught on one screen. Shoot me."

"Do not tempt me." He plugged the drive into his computer and began extracting the files. Holographic images showed up on the 3-D display console, and he nodded thoughtfully at what he was seeing. "Well done, Zixx. At least it wasn't a total loss."

"One camera does not a failed mission make."

In response, Bishop pressed a button on his desk. A painted screen behind Zixx shifted to the side revealing a wall-mounted flat screen television. News footage suddenly appeared on it, and Zixx's blurry face was plastered across the screen along with a number for viewers to call the police if they saw a man with purple skin.

Zixx glowered. "Big deal. That was a Japanese broadcast. People here don't watch the Tokyo news."

"No, but that's no excuse for carelessness." Bishop turned off the TV. "You will be more careful in the future."

"Sounds almost like you were worried about me."

"Do not be ridiculous." Bishop's attention returned to the files he was now sifting through on the 3-D console, removing files he considered useless with a wave of his hand towards the virtual trash bin. "You did, however, manage to accomplish something correctly. These files do in fact confirm to what level Asia has reached in terms of accepting alien technology. Their protests at the last summit meeting about alien corruption are now easily argued with this proof that they obviously do not mind alliances with off-worlders as much as they initially claimed."

Zixx rolled his eyes. "Big deal. Technology equals money. The bigwigs in power there know that. Everyone knows that. It ain't them you need to worry about."

Bishop raised his eyes from the screen and focused them on Zixx. "Explain."

"The governments of the world are easy to convince. It's the people you have to work on. Haven't you ever read an X-Man comic book? People fear what they don't understand, and fear is only a stone's throw away from hate."

Bishop returned his eyes to the screen. "I do not waste my time on frivolous scraps of paper, and the world will accept alien technology when they see the advances it provides them. Humans are inherently greedy. Anything that improves their quality of life will be readily accepted."

"That's not what I said," Zixx said patiently. "In fact, I agree with you. People will definitely accept alien technology." He pointed to the side wall, where Bishop had placed a framed photo of his recent meeting with a high-ranking member of the S'kule race. It had been a secret meeting, but one filled with promise. "It's the _aliens_ people won't accept."

"The world has changed quite a bit from the days of blind and ignorant prejudice," Bishop said calmly. "I do not think it will pose quite the problem you think it will. And either way, it is not your concern to deal with."

Zixx reluctantly conceded with a shrug and a nod. He sat silently for a few minutes, before breaking the silence once again. "You really think the world is ready to let aliens and mutants walk among us?" His tone was doubtful.

Bishop shrugged, unconcerned. "The masses seem to accept you – or at least, they _would_, were your face not plastered all over the evening news for yet another criminal escapade."

At that, Zixx snickered. "Man, purple skin is nothing. Have you seen what kids these days get up to in the fields of body modifications? A guy came up to me in a club once and asked who my tattoo artist was that would do my whole body in one shade, and what technique he used. For some reason, he wanted be electric green."

Bishop raised an eyebrow at that. Once upon a time, someone wanting to parade around in public wearing that particular shade of the color spectrum (well, not the electric part, at any rate) would have been met with howls of indignation from random members of the public, and his own personal task force armed with stun guns and electrified nets. Or maybe that was only for green skin with shells.

He shook his head, and focused back on the conversation. "Whether or not the public is ready for such an occurrence is slowly becoming irrelevant. It_ is _happening, and the public will have to adjust. Just as the world once opened its borders to allow members of other countries entry, so too is the day coming when we will open up our planetary borders and welcome denizens of other worlds. The prospect for foreign trade, the advancement of technology – our very idea of the world itself is going to change." His eyes flashed. "And I shall be there to lead us along the way."

Zixx eyed him warily. "...Yeah. Starting to sound a bit like your cartoon-variety tyrannical overlord now. Might wanna watch that when election time comes."

Bishop shot him annoyed look. "Oh, shut up."

* * *

**End**

**

* * *

  
**

**Notes:** Bishop cares. He just doesn't show it. Zixx can tell.

_Zixx: _"Oh, I know. Also, what's up with the dramatic declarations you have him doing?"

_Stormy: _"He's going to be the head of a interplanetary intergalactic council. That doesn't seem the least bit dramatic to you?"

_Zixx:_ "Whatever. I bet you have that 'If I Become an Evil Overlord' list, right? Gimme! I wanna leave it on his desk. No, even better – I'll keep a copy and read highlighted sections out loud at the perfect moments."

_Stormy:_ "You really do love living on the edge, don't you?"

So it seems only some people are giving this fic a try. I suppose most people see the name Bishop and run for the hills – or they see Zixx and go, 'Huh?' :D For all those people taking the time to read this fic and give me your honest opinion, thank you very much. I appreciate you giving it a chance, even if it may not be your exact cup of tea.

**//nudges the review button// ** If you feel so inclined, that is. :D


End file.
